"Per'aps yer'll go," he said grimly.
And the three went, without a word.
SCENE V
So the husband and wife were left together in the cottage room. The door had no sooner closed on Saunders and his companions than Isaac was seized with that strange sense of walking amid things unreal upon a wavering earth which is apt to beset the man who has any portion of the dreamer's temperament under any sudden rush of circumstance. He drew his hand across his brow, bewildered. The fire leapt and chattered in the grate; the newly-washed tea-things on the table shone under the lamp; the cat lay curled, as usual, on the chair where he sat after supper to read his Christian World; yet all things were not the same. What had changed?
Then, across poor John's rifled box, he saw his wife sitting rigid on the chair where he had left her.
He came and sat down at the corner of the table, close to her, his chin on his hand.
"'Ow did yer spend it?" he said, startled, as the words came out, by his own voice, so grinding and ugly was the note of it.
Her miserable eyes travelled over his face, seeking, as it were, for some promise, however faint, of future help and succour, however distant.
Apparently she saw none, for her own look flamed to fresh defiance.
"I didn't spend it. Saunders wor lyin'."